Friendship, Bravery, and Love
by HarmonyLover
Summary: A week after Nationals, over a romantic Italian dinner, Kurt and Blaine attempt to follow the threads of their relationship and discover where friendship and bravery end, and love begins. Post-Season Two.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _Glee_; it all belongs to 20th Century Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, Brad Falchuk, et al. I write these stories purely for enjoyment; no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **I just about turned into a puddle when Blaine said "I love you" in the last episode of the season. I immediately had an idea for a follow-up, so here we go… I've paraphrased Kurt's dialogue at the very beginning, since I don't have the exact wording. That bit belongs to the _Glee_ writers, and not to me.

This story turned out much longer than I had originally planned. As you'll see, there was a long interlude with Kurt and Carole, then David and Wes hijacked the story for a bit (and this is my first attempt at writing those two; what fun they are!), and finally, Kurt and Blaine got to have the conversation that they'd been prodding me to write in the first place. For those who were wondering, if you actually look up the distance between Lima and Westerville, it's an hour and forty-five minutes to two hours, depending on the route you take and traffic. If anyone is curious about what I envisioned Kurt and Blaine dancing to, listen to Wynton Marsalis, "Standard Time, Vol. 3: The Resolution of Romance."

I have no idea who in this fandom first came up with the idea of calling Wes and David the Tweedles, or Tweedledum and Tweedledee, but my thanks goes out to them. (By the way, it has since come to my attention that CP Coulter's Evan and Ethan are also the Tweedles; in this case it refers to Wes and David. I would never want to encroach on the world of "Dalton." If you haven't read it, by all means go _read_). Thing 1 and Thing 2 belong to Dr. Seuss. My thanks to Hermione Granger and Jo Rowling for the title of this tale. I always appreciate feedback on these stories, since I'm venturing into a completely new fandom with them. Finally, my deepest thanks to WickedForGood13, who has been kind enough to beta this story for me and has been a sympathetic listener at a very trying time in my life.

* * *

><p><strong>Friendship, Bravery, and Love<strong>

". . . the experience was still amazing. I flew on a plane for the first time, had breakfast at Tiffany's, and I sang on a Broadway stage. I'm really not that upset."

As Kurt finished his commentary on New York, he caught Blaine's eyes and was arrested by the emotion he saw there. Blaine was looking at him as though he had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life, with a warmth that Kurt could _feel_ flowing over him.

"I love you," Blaine said with a soft smile.

Kurt's eyes widened as he stared at his boyfriend. No one had ever – _ever_ – said those words to him with the meaning that Blaine ascribed to them now, and Kurt could scarcely comprehend what was happening. Blaine loved him. This gorgeous boy, whom Kurt thought he had loved since that first moment on the staircase at Dalton, loved him not only as a best friend but as a companion of the heart. Beyond the waves of shock, Kurt felt the first tremulous beginnings of joy.

"I love you too," he finally said in return, feeling his own lips turn upward. He knew a moment of worry, knew that the silence must have been long, but he saw only patience and adoration in Blaine's gaze. As his own words of affirmation sank in, Blaine's smile blossomed fully, and Kurt knew that he could gladly spend the rest of his life trying to make Blaine look that happy.

"When you think about it, Kurt Hummel's had a pretty good year," he said lightheartedly, raising his coffee in a small salute.

"I think you've had an amazing year," Blaine answered, reaching out and capturing Kurt's free hand. "You've – you've always been an incredible person, Kurt, but you've grown so much this year, and I'm so proud of you."

Kurt set down his cup and reached to cover Blaine's hand with his own, so that his two hands were surrounding Blaine's one. "Thank you. It's all because of you, you know. I never could have done it without you." He lifted their joined hands and pressed a quick kiss to Blaine's knuckles. "Come on, let's get out of here."

There were so many more things that Kurt wanted to say – so much more than a simple "I love you" could convey – but he didn't want to try and do it here, in the middle of a public coffeehouse, in full view of Mercedes and Sam and anyone else who happened to be watching.

He needed a plan.

* * *

><p>Much, much later that day, Kurt found himself knocking on the door of his parents' bedroom. Blaine had dropped him off and promised to call him the next day, and after Kurt had cautioned Blaine to be careful on the drive back to Dalton and kissed him <em>very<em> long and thoroughly, he had gone to his own room and tried to sort through the million emotions and feelings and ideas that were filling his mind. He wanted to talk to Carole, but he was more than a little nervous about asking for his stepmother's help.

_Carole is your stepmother, and she does love you_, Kurt reminded himself, taking a deep breath. _She isn't your own mother, but she wants to be a mother to you. It will be fine._

"Come in," Carole called. Kurt found her folding laundry on the bed, and she looked up with a welcoming smile.

"Hello, sweetheart. What can I do for you?" she asked.

Kurt moved automatically to help her, beginning to fold tee shirts with neat precision. "Well, I had something . . . important happen today, and I was hoping for your help," he answered solemnly.

Carole registered the serious tone of Kurt's voice and refocused on him, raising her eyebrows inquiringly. "What happened?"

Kurt took yet another deep breath, feeling as though he might fly into pieces with happiness. "Blaine said he loved me."

Carole gasped, one hand flying to her mouth in surprise, and then a brilliant smile covered her features. "Oh, Kurt. Did you . . . ?"

"Yes, of course I did!" Kurt exclaimed, suddenly laughing with relief and joy. Carole squealed and ran to Kurt's side of the bed, wrapping Kurt in an enormous hug before pulling him down to sit next to her.

"I didn't know grown women could actually squeal like that," Kurt said, still laughing. "I thought only girls my age squealed."

Carole laughed in return. "Grown women can squeal too, especially over something like this." She squeezed Kurt's shoulder, and the look in her eyes touched Kurt in some part of himself that he had thought long since buried. Carole really did look at him as though he were her own child.

"I am so happy for you, honey," she went on. "Blaine is a wonderful young man. Tell me how it happened."

"We were in the coffeeshop talking about the trip to New York, and Blaine had asked me why I wasn't more upset about losing," Kurt started obligingly. "I was telling him that it had still been an amazing experience even though we didn't place, and he was looking at me in the most – in the most tender way anyone has ever looked at me," Kurt stumbled, feeling himself choke up a bit. "Then he said, 'I love you,' and I could hardly take it in at first, I was so surprised. But after a minute, when I had gotten my tongue to work again, I said, 'I love you too.' It was – amazing," he said, shaking his head in wonder. "I don't have words. It's such a simple thing to say, but –"

"– but it can mean everything," Carole finished for him, smiling again.

"Yes," Kurt agreed shyly. "It can. But somehow it doesn't seem like enough, either. Blaine has done so much for me, and he's made me a better person simply by being himself. There were so many other things I wanted to say."

"Is this where the help comes in?" Carole asked kindly. It thrilled her to see Kurt so happy; he had been so strong throughout the ordeal with Karofsky, but she knew he had been aching with fear and loneliness. For Blaine to come into Kurt's life when he did was something for which she would be forever thankful.

Kurt nodded. "I was hoping to do a dinner? I'd like to have Blaine over for dinner with just the two of us, and tell him more of what I'm feeling."

"I think that's a lovely idea, and of course I'll help you," Carole agreed. "We'll set it up so the two of you have some privacy – Burt and I will make ourselves scarce – although not out of earshot," she teased, making Kurt blush, "and I'll make sure Finn is occupied somewhere else. I can even help you cook, if you like."

"Would you?" Kurt said, brightening even more. "I would love that. I'm good in the kitchen, but it's so much easier with two people."

Carole leaned over and kissed Kurt on the top of his head. "What else are mothers for?" she asked. "Think about what you'd like to make, and we'll get it done."

"Thank you, Carole," Kurt said, his voice a bit unsteady. He reached out and hugged her, hard. "Dad won't mind?"

"Oh, he'll probably mind a bit," Carole said dryly, "but I'll take care of it." She gave him a warm hug in return. "You're very welcome, Kurt. I like Blaine very much, and I'm so glad that he's been there for you. I'm glad that you found each other."

"Me too," Kurt agreed earnestly. He turned to go, but Carole stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Kurt. Have you told your father?"

"Not yet, but I will," Kurt promised. Carole could see the vulnerability in his face before he spoke again. "I want to tell him, but it felt – right – to tell you first. It was something I would have told my mother first, you know?"

"Oh, Kurt," Carol said shakily, her eyes misting over. She stood and pulled her stepson into yet another hug. "Thank you. She would have been so proud of you."

"I hope so," Kurt answered, his own eyes blurry.

"Of _course_ she is, wherever she is now," Carole said firmly, squeezing him for emphasis. "Now, go call Blaine and find out when he's free, and we'll plan around that. And Kurt," she said, stepping back and looking him in the eyes, "it is enough. Saying the rest . . . it's beautiful, and it's important, but knowing that you love each other is a huge first step."

"Thanks," Kurt said with a half-smile. He left to call Blaine, and Carole smiled to herself all through the rest of her laundry folding.

* * *

><p>Upon reflection, Kurt decided that he would text Blaine rather than call him. First, Blaine might still be driving back to Dalton, and second, while he didn't have regular classes to prepare for this week, he <em>was<em> studying for exams. Kurt didn't want to distract him any more than necessary.

_Hey you. What are you doing on Friday after exams? –K_

Kurt didn't receive an answering text for well over two hours, and he spent the time cheerfully unpacking from his New York trip and slightly less cheerfully going through his English notes for his first exam on Tuesday. Finally, however, his phone buzzed from where it lay on his desk.

_I wasn't doing anything. Care to tell me what I'm doing now? :)_

Kurt felt a smile spread across his countenance as he read; he could see Blaine's smile and the teasing lift of the eyebrows that would have accompanied that question if Blaine had been standing in front of him.

_Coming to my house for dinner. I'll pick you up._

Kurt thought a moment, then quickly typed in another text.

_No protesting. I don't care that it's two hours to Westerville. You can stay in the guest room._

Kurt felt his face heat up as he contemplated the idea of Blaine sleeping in his house – but that was ridiculous, he admitted. He and Blaine had been down the hall from one another at Dalton. It was hardly any different, and Blaine would never be able to drive back to Westerville after a full day of exams and dinner. He would be exhausted.

Kurt chewed his bottom lip nervously as he waited; was he asking too much? Was Blaine going to tell him that this was a bad idea?

When his phone finally buzzed, Kurt stifled a laugh. The text was only one word.

_Burt?_

Kurt smirked, responding rapidly.

_I have Carole._

The response was immediate.

_Thank goodness for that._

Kurt shook his head in amusement.

_Dad likes you, Blaine. He let you walk out the door with me on prom night, didn't he?_

_He did. But 'tolerates' might be a better word._

_Don't be silly. He knows how much you've done to help me, and how much you care._

Kurt couldn't quite bring himself to write "how much you love me" at the end of that sentence. The acknowledgement was too new, the feeling too precious to be taken for granted or easily expressed.

The silence from Blaine was so long this time that Kurt began to wonder if he had said the wrong thing and Blaine had taken offense. Would he think Kurt was belittling their feelings for each other?

_I suppose he does. Still, your father is intimidating, Kurt! I know how far he's willing to go to protect you._

Kurt frowned a little. He had the distinct feeling that he was missing something. While Blaine and Burt's interactions had been a bit awkward at first – Blaine was right about his father's tendency to be overprotective – they had always been respectful. During the argument over Kurt's prom outfit, they had even sided with one another. He would have to ask his boyfriend about that enigmatic answer. On the plus side, Blaine hadn't remarked on the wording of his text.

_You need to get back to studying, I know,_ Kurt typed in. _Call me tomorrow? And don't worry about Dad; it'll be fine._

_Of course I'll call. Thanks for understanding about the studying. I love you._

Warmth bloomed in Kurt's chest. Trust Blaine to pick up on his hesitation. It was exactly like him to reassure Kurt that he really had meant it. He really did love Kurt, and Kurt didn't have to be afraid of losing him, or afraid of his own feelings for Blaine.

_I love you, too._

As Kurt sent the message, he fell back onto his bed with a happy sigh. He still had exams to get through, and he would have to talk to Carole again, but Friday couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

><p>Kurt drummed his fingers on the hood of his car excitedly. It was five o' clock, Warblers rehearsal should be over any minute, and he was impatient to see Blaine.<p>

It had been a long week. After the euphoria of New York, exams had been doubly difficult to endure. Blaine had been drowning in the fiercely demanding Dalton finals, and the only time they had found to talk was before they each collapsed into bed. As glad as he was to be back at McKinley with his friends, Kurt missed Blaine every minute.

At last he saw Blaine emerge through the doors to the parking lot, and Kurt caught his breath at the sight. Blaine had discarded his Dalton blazer and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt to the elbows in deference to the warm June day. With a black sweater over his arm and a messenger bag over his shoulder, he was the picture of relaxed elegance, and Kurt felt his heart speed up for the millionth time at the thought that this stunning boy was _his_.

"Hey," Blaine called with a smile as he came within earshot.

"Hey yourself," Kurt responded cheekily.

Blaine stopped in front of Kurt and swung his bag to the ground, carefully setting his sweater on top of it. Unbending himself, he finally noticed Kurt's stare.

"What is it?" he asked, his smile turning quizzical. He reached out with his right hand and threaded his fingers through Kurt's left hand, squeezing warmly.

"You look amazing," Kurt said quietly, pink tingeing his cheeks. It still felt like a dream to be able to say these things to Blaine, to be able to admit them out loud and not fear the consequences.

Blaine's smile broadened and his eyes filled with tenderness.

"You don't look so bad yourself," he teased gently, appreciatively taking in Kurt's brown pants and French blue oxford, topped with a brown leather belt around his slim hips. The shirt was the perfect shade of blue to bring out his eyes, while the pants brought out the highlights in his hair. Blaine found it both endearing and impressive that Kurt was always so flawlessly put together; it was one of the many things he loved about him.

Kurt's momentary embarrassment faded quickly to concern as he studied Blaine's face.

"You also look tired," he noted, frowning as he lifted his hand and traced a thumb over the dark circles under Blaine's eyes.

Blaine closed his eyes at the touch, reveling in the softness of Kurt's fingers on his skin.

"I am tired," he confessed. "Exams were brutal; they get harder every year. I'm a million times better already, though," he added, opening his eyes and giving Kurt an affectionate glance before leaning in to kiss him. Their mouths moved together slowly as they both relished the newness, the absolute sweetness and intimacy of each other's lips.

Blaine was a bit breathless as he pulled away, his hands still cupping Kurt's face. "I'm still getting used to the fact that I can _do_ that," he murmured, leaning his forehead against Kurt's.

Kurt laughed, and Blaine felt the vibrations run through him, sending pleasant tingles head to toe.

"My thoughts exactly," Kurt answered, before kissing Blaine again.

They were interrupted, however, by a throat clearing loudly and a sarcasm-laden voice.

"Please, don't stop on our account."

Blaine jumped in surprise, then turned around with a glare.

"Wes! Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's rude to sneak up on people?" he said crossly.

Wes shrugged. "It's one of my talents."

"You know, you two would be absolutely sickening if you weren't so hopelessly cute," David put in unhelpfully. The two joined-at-the-hip Warblers were grinning unrepentantly and sitting on the hood of an Audi that was parked next to Kurt.

To his credit, Kurt didn't seem at all fazed by the appearance of these twin apparitions. "Hello, Thing One and Thing Two," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Wes put a hand to his chest. "Kurt, you wound me," he said melodramatically. "Are you suggesting that I have no identity apart from David?"

"Not that I've ever seen," Kurt retorted crisply. He turned to David, the sarcasm increasing with every word. "I pity the girl who consents to marry you, David, because she'll really be marrying both of you, and I have no idea how that will work out – unless you're both much more unorthodox than I'm giving you credit for," he finished, arching an eyebrow.

Blaine leaned his head back and laughed at the slightly flabbergasted expression on David's face. Kurt's ability to give as well as he got was a talent that had endeared him to all the Warblers. David recovered quickly, but that brief look of surprise had been priceless.

"Sticks and stones, Kurt, sticks and stones," David said with a wink. "Any girl who can't appreciate Wes isn't worth it."

Kurt pursed his lips, and Blaine could tell he was struggling not to laugh, his irritation at the interruption entirely gone.

"You're going to completely spoil David's chances at matrimony, Wes," he said to the Head Warbler.

Wes was shaking with laughter and grinning maniacally at the banter – there was nothing he loved more than a good bout of wordplay, except perhaps his gavel.

"All part of the master plan, my friend," he answered Kurt, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

Kurt finally gave in and grinned himself, crossing his arms and leaning against his car. "To what do we owe the honor, gentleman?"

"Not that we would ever admit it –" Wes started.

"– but we miss you, Warbler Kurt –" David chimed in.

"– and spying on you makes it so much easier to blackmail Blaine," Wes finished wickedly.

Kurt's face softened. "I miss you guys, too," he admitted. "Am I still allowed in Warblers rehearsal occasionally?"

"We'll have an impromptu rehearsal whenever you come to visit," Wes promised sincerely. "We all miss you."

For all their craziness, Kurt knew that David and Wes meant every word. They were, at heart, incredibly kind people, and were Blaine's best friends for many reasons that had nothing to do with their outward demeanor.

"It's a deal," Kurt agreed happily. "No blackmailing my boyfriend, though, Wesley," he said severely, pointing a finger perilously close to Wes's nose.

"So little trust," Wes teased as he stood up. "And we just love saying that little phrase, don't we?"

Kurt reddened to his hairline as he realized what Wes was referring to, his composure temporarily undone – but in the next moment his chin came up, and he met Wes's gaze steadily.

"I do, actually," he said solemnly, with a quick, warm glance at Blaine.

The smiles that Wes and David directed at Kurt this time were much less mocking and much more approving and affectionate. Kurt felt as though he had passed some sort of test when he saw the commendation in Wes's eyes, and David gave him a small, satisfied nod.

Blaine found himself shaking from the impact of the look Kurt had given him and the silent conversation passing between his best friends and the boy he loved. Kurt was so brave – braver than he, Blaine, had ever been. It touched Blaine more than he could say that Kurt could take a playful moment and turn it into a serious affirmation of his feelings, even in the midst of embarrassment. On the other hand, Kurt had stood up to Karofsky time and again, despite almost unspeakable humiliation and pain at the bully's hands. He shouldn't be surprised that Kurt showed the same courage even to those who already cared for him.

"We'll leave you two to your love scene now," David jested, reaching out and squeezing Blaine's shoulder.

"Don't forget about rehearsal tomorrow, Blaine," Wes reminded him, giving him his best Head Warbler stare. "I _will_ come after you."

"I won't," Blaine stammered, surprised that he still had a voice. "I'll be back."

"Goodbye, Tweedles," Kurt sang to Wes and David's retreating backs.

"See you around, Klaine," Wes tossed back over his shoulder.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other and bit their lips, waiting until Wes and David were out of hearing before collapsing in merriment. They laughed until their sides ached, slumping against the car in a nearly-futile attempt to stay upright.

"Tweedles?" Blaine gasped.

Kurt shrugged helplessly. "You have to admit it suits them," he got out between giggles.

Blaine used one arm to pull himself along the car and closer to Kurt, still chuckling. "You do know that's the end of it, don't you?" he said, sliding his arm around Kurt's waist. "We'll be 'Klaine' all through Dalton by the end of the night."

"Oh, and one of them has already put it up on Facebook, so it will spread around New Directions just as quickly," Kurt answered, his lips still twitching. "It's all right with me. Somehow it seems fitting that Wes, of all people, came up with a moniker for us."

Blaine took in Kurt's shining eyes and flushed cheeks, and all of the love and awe he was feeling came rushing to the surface.

"You are amazing, do you know that?" he said gently, running one hand through the hair at Kurt's temple. "Even when my idiot best friends are trying to embarrass the life out of you, you defend what you feel for me. You danced with me in front of your entire school, even after they tried to crush you in the worst way possible. You – you put yourself between me and the person who had been terrorizing you." Blaine had to pause as he thought about that confrontation with Karofsky, and he swallowed hard before continuing. "I didn't need to teach you anything about courage, Kurt. You had – have – so much already."

Kurt shook his head vehemently, surprising Blaine. "You're wrong," he whispered, smiling tremulously. He kissed Blaine briefly but ardently, winding his fingers in Blaine's hair and tugging Blaine to him insistently. When he let go they were both dazed, but Kurt shook his head again to emphasize what he had said.

"You're wrong, but that's part of later," he said firmly. "Come on, we have a dinner to get to."

Blaine was still rather breathless and dizzy from Kurt's kiss, but he had enough mental acuity left to wonder about that comment. Kurt _did_ have courage, and had plenty of it before he met Blaine – but he didn't seem to think so, and Blaine mulled over the internal shifts that they had somehow caused in each other, simply by meeting and becoming friends.

Still thinking, he obediently climbed into the passenger seat while Kurt hopped in the driver's side.

"Am I allowed to ask what we're having for dinner?" Blaine questioned, recovering his voice as Kurt began to drive.

"Caesar salad, lasagna with homemade pasta, and tiramisu," Kurt answered promptly. "I made the tiramisu and the lasagna yesterday with Carole's help, and she's putting the main course in the oven for us."

"Yum," Blaine sighed happily. "How did you know that Italian is my favorite?"

"I didn't – but it's mine, too," Kurt answered, flashing him a delighted smile.

The next two hours passed uneventfully except for pleasant conversation about exams, set lists, Warbler escapades, New Directions drama, and any other topic that occurred to either of the two boys. Blaine appreciated the ease with which he could talk to Kurt, and while Kurt was nervous (he desperately wanted this evening to go well), he was so happy to simply be in Blaine's company that his worries faded to the back of his mind.

The butterflies returned full force when they pulled up to the house, however, and Kurt fumbled the keys as he was pulling them out of the ignition. Kurt muttered something highly ungentlemanly under his breath and reached down for them, but Blaine picked them up first.

"Hey," he said understandingly, taking Kurt's hand. "Why are you nervous?"

Kurt looked at him a moment and then laughed slightly. "How do you _do_ that?"

"How do I know when you're nervous?" Blaine asked back. Kurt nodded. "First of all, you have the most expressive eyes I've ever seen. Second, you get flustered when you're nervous, even though you try very hard to stay composed."

Kurt blushed. "I hate being nervous _or_ flustered; it's not usually a problem for me."

"It's very endearing when you are," Blaine said with a smile. "If it makes you feel any better, you do the same thing to me. You have an uncanny way of knowing when I'm nervous, or stressed, or worried."

"You get quiet when you're nervous, a little frantic when you're stressed, and very tense and short with people when you're worried," Kurt responded without thinking, then blushed again as he realized that he had proven Blaine's theory.

"See?" Blaine said with amusement. He took Kurt's hand. "Don't be nervous. It's only me," he said supportively.

Kurt gazed into Blaine's face for a long minute, and Blaine did his best to silently communicate all of the love and trust he could. He felt the tension gradually leave Kurt, and the younger boy finally inclined his head in agreement.

"You're right," he said. "I'm sorry; I've never done this before. I want this to be perfect."

"I know," Blaine answered. "You don't have to impress me, though, Kurt. You've already got me."

This earned Blaine another brilliant smile, and Kurt squeezed his hand. "Let's go," Kurt said, hopping out of the car with a determined air.

As they entered the front door, Carole bustled forward, and the boys were greeted with the enticing smell of tomato sauce, pasta, and spices.

"Blaine! It's so good to see you," Carole exclaimed, folding the surprised Warbler into a hug.

"It's good to see you too, Mrs. Hummel," Blaine said, returning the hug a trifle tentatively but giving Kurt's stepmother a warm smile.

"Oh, do call me Carole, Blaine," Carole admonished him. Just then, Burt appeared in the hallway behind his wife.

"Blaine," Burt said, nodding a greeting. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you, sir," Blaine said. "Thank you for allowing me to stay tonight. I'm tired after this week, and it would have been a long drive back to Westerville."

"Well, we couldn't have you getting into any kind of trouble driving back so late," Burt said gruffly. "I wouldn't let Kurt do that drive coming off of his exams, and it would be irresponsible of me to let you do it. Not to mention that Kurt would have my head."

Blaine glanced at Kurt, who was wearing his best diva smile, and shook his head.

"I don't think I would want to take on that argument either, sir," Blaine agreed, and Burt chuckled.

"Call me Burt, Blaine. None of this 'sir' business. Don't hurt my boy, and you and I are fine," he said.

"Dad!" Kurt protested, mortified. "You haven't scared Blaine enough?"

Burt cracked a grin. "There's never any harm in reiterating a point, Kurt."

"Enough, you," Carole scolded him, swatting him on the arm. She turned back to the boys after giving her husband a pointed glare. "Now, the lasagna is all done and on the counter, and the tiramisu and salad are in the fridge. You boys enjoy yourselves and don't worry about anything. Burt and I will be in calling distance, but you won't be interrupted."

"Thank you, Carole," Kurt said gratefully.

"It's no problem at all," Carole said, giving Kurt a quick wink and then waving both boys off.

"Where are we going?" Blaine asked as Kurt took his hand and started to lead him.

"You'll see," Kurt said mysteriously. He led Blaine down the stairs to his own room and stopped right before they reached the bottom. It was dark, but there was enough ambient light that Blaine could still see vague shapes.

"Close your eyes," Kurt commanded.

"What?" Blaine asked, taken aback.

"Close your eyes," Kurt repeated, practically bouncing with excitement.

Blaine obliged, chuckling at Kurt's eagerness.

"Stay right here for a minute," Kurt said, and Blaine heard him go down the last few stairs, heard the distinctive sound of matches striking, and saw a warm glow through his closed eyelids. It was scarcely more light than there had been before, but the rosy color was reassuring.

"I'm back," Kurt murmured next to him, and Blaine felt Kurt's warm hand around his own. "Watch these last few steps."

Kurt led him down the stairs and into the room, bringing him forward so that (Blaine assumed) he would have the full view of whatever he was about to see.

"Stop," Kurt said, and Blaine did so. He felt Kurt's arms wrap around his waist from behind, and a chin come to rest on his shoulder.

"Okay," Kurt breathed in his ear. "Open."

Blaine opened his eyes and was astonished at what he saw. Kurt had transformed his room into a miniature bistro. A large carved screen of dark brown wood framed a beautiful little table covered in a deep red cloth. Pristine place settings sparkled under the candles on the table, and small lamps on the dresser added to the glow. Wooden chairs with carved backs and red upholstered seats completed the effect. Kurt had somehow succeeded in creating an incredibly intimate, beautifully appointed setting while making the rest of his room seem utterly invisible.

"Kurt, this is amazing," Blaine said softly. "Where did you find all of this?"

"Oh, here, there, and everywhere," Kurt said lightly, smiling. Blaine felt Kurt's facial muscles shift against his cheek with the smile, since Kurt was still holding him from behind. Kurt's arms tightened briefly before releasing him, and Kurt moved over to the table, running a finger over the edge of one china plate. "Most of it was in the house somewhere. These dishes were my grandmother's. My mother kept it packed away most of the time, except for holidays. She taught me how to care for it and store it; I always helped her pack it away after holiday dinners."

The expression on Kurt's face made Blaine's throat ache; his eyes were sad as he remembered the mother he had lost. Blaine stepped close to him and took his hand.

"You miss her," he said tenderly.

"I do," Kurt acknowledged, mustering a little smile. He turned his head to look at Blaine, his face brightening. "She would have loved you."

"I'm glad you think so," Blaine said, touched by the depth of the compliment.

"It's true," Kurt said warmly. He set a light kiss on Blaine's lips, and when he withdrew he was smiling fully. "Come on, let's go get some food."

The two boys took their plates up to the kitchen and dished up servings of salad and lasagna, which had filled the room with its savory odor.

When they had returned to their personal bistro and taken their seats, Blaine took his first bite and closed his eyes, savoring what had to be the best lasagna he had ever tasted.

"Mmmm," he said in approval, swallowing. "Kurt, that's unbelievable. Most of the lasagna I've had at Italian restaurants wasn't that good."

Kurt was pleased. "I hoped you would like it. Since it's my favorite, I was determined to learn to make it properly as soon as I was old enough. It was the first thing I tried, and I kept making it and changing it until I thought it was perfect. Mom helped a lot. And let's not forget Carole; she was a wonderful sous chef yesterday and was completely behind this whole idea from the moment I mentioned it."

Blaine cocked his head, studying Kurt. "I've never heard you mention your mother so much before," he noted delicately.

"I never wanted to talk about her before," Kurt said solemnly, carefully articulating his thoughts. "It's – I didn't have to talk about her with Dad because he remembers everything. He would understand when something reminded me of Mom without either of us having to say much. I wanted to keep her to myself and Dad – it somehow felt wrong to talk about her with anyone else. You're the first person I've wanted to share her with since she died," Kurt finished, glancing down as his face tightened. He looked up again after a moment, smiling a bit at Blaine despite the tears in his eyes. "I like telling you about her. It makes her feel closer somehow."

Blaine could barely breathe. "Kurt," he murmured, reaching across the table and squeezing the younger boy's hand. "That's . . . I don't know what to say. You said earlier that she would have loved me. I hope she does. I hope she knows how much I want to make you happy."

"Me too," Kurt said, nearly inaudibly. He was silent then, and Blaine watched the candle flames dance in his eyes, illuminating them like blue torches.

"Carole helps as well," Kurt added eventually. "It's strange, but having her be a part of the family – remembering what it's like to have a mother who cares and worries about you – it makes a difference, in a good way."

Blaine was still holding Kurt's hand and running his thumb over Kurt's knuckles in a soothing motion.

"You're like your mother, aren't you?" Blaine said, in a flash of realization.

Kurt shook his head. "I have Dad's stubbornness and temper. I never give up on the things I want, and I'm quick to flare up when I think something is unfair – or when I'm being completely selfish."

"You're also incredibly compassionate," Blaine observed. "Your father has that trait too, but I can't imagine that he didn't learn a little something about it from your mother. You have a gift for cooking and an eye for color – two things that I'm pretty sure Burt couldn't care less about."

Kurt's mouth turned upward. "Not unless it's the color of a vintage car," he agreed. "And he loves good food but doesn't find it at all relaxing to make it."

"You aren't afraid to be yourself, even under the most frightening circumstances," Blaine continued. "There are so many things I love about you, Kurt, but that bravery – it terrifies me beyond words, because I'm always afraid that you're going to get hurt – but I'm so proud of you for it."

Kurt sighed and closed his eyes, trying to find both patience and courage before he spoke. This was why he had wanted to do this, to have this date and talk to Blaine alone. He desperately wanted Blaine to understand how much he had changed Kurt's life, how much Kurt loved him for everything he was, and that in this case, his bravery was _due_ to Blaine, not in spite of him.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Blaine," Kurt began, opening his eyes and looking tenderly at his boyfriend. "When we met, that first day on the staircase at Dalton, I had almost lost sight of myself. I was scared to death by what was happening at McKinley, but I fought Karofsky verbally because I didn't have a choice. I certainly couldn't have fought him any other way. I'm no match for him physically, and he's a coward. There were always more of his jock friends around when they wanted to throw me into a dumpster or lock me in a janitorial closet. When I met you, I hadn't told anyone at school how bad it was getting, not even Mercedes. I didn't feel as though anyone could help. Figgins wouldn't, Mr. Schue couldn't, and as much as 'Cedes loves me, what was she going to be able to do against Karofsky, who could just as easily hurt her as he could me?"

Kurt paused; Blaine was watching him with the same intense, absorbed expression he had been wearing in the Lima Bean, but instead of the joy Kurt had seen then, he saw sadness and endless compassion.

"Then you showed up at my elbow," Kurt continued, smiling faintly now, "and you were so kind to me when I was a complete stranger – and a spy, no less. When you took my hand to lead me to the Warblers performance, I felt safe for the first time in ages."

"You looked lost, in more ways than one," Blaine responded sympathetically. "I wanted to help. I remember how it felt."

"You did help," Kurt said seriously. He lifted Blaine's hand to his cheek, nuzzling his palm. "Blaine, every time I have needed someone, you have been there. Simply by being you and accepting me without question, you reminded me that it is possible to take joy in the person I am and the things I love. You allowed me to believe in myself again because you believed in me." Kurt paused, collecting his thoughts. "I don't know if I'm expressing myself very well. What I'm trying to say is that there's a world of difference between fighting for your life because you're helpless and cornered and fighting because you have something or _someone_ to fight for. Blaine, if I'm brave now, it's because I have you, and us, to fight for. I believed in you and your strength even when I felt as though I didn't have any strength left – and even before I realized how hard I was falling for you," Kurt finished, planting a kiss on Blaine's wrist.

"God, Kurt – you – I don't –" Blaine stopped; he was rendered momentarily incoherent by the whirlpool of emotions he was feeling.

Kurt's eyes widened in fear and he tensed. "I've said too much and scared you, haven't I?" he rushed out. "I'm so sorry, Blaine; I should know better than to spill out everything that's in my head. It's a terrible habit with you because I'm so used to telling you everything. I'm not saying any of this to make you uncomfortable, really. I just wanted –"

"I know," Blaine interrupted, finally recovering his self-possession. "I know," he repeated more gently. "Don't ever feel you have to censor yourself with me, Kurt; I'm honored and _grateful_ that you don't. It's – you undo me in a way that is so beautiful it almost hurts," he confessed, his voice low. His hand found Kurt's again across the table, seeking reassurance through touch. "I'm still amazed by it."

"So am I," Kurt agreed, his voice equally husky. The two boys were profoundly still for a few moments, simply taking in each other and everything that had been said.

"It was the same for me, you know," Blaine said finally. "There was something about you from that first time I saw you, though all I knew initially was that I wanted to help you, help ease that lost look a little bit. I knew how much it would have meant to me if someone had done that."

Kurt laughed briefly. "I really must have been a terrible spy," he commented. "Not only did I fail to pass myself off as a new student, but you immediately picked me out as someone in need of rescuing."

"It wasn't – quite – that," Blaine said, his voice a little odd. He looked at Kurt a moment, contemplating what he was about to say. "Or if it was, it wasn't exactly what you're envisioning. I had multiple reasons for bringing Wes and David with me to talk to you. If you were merely a glee club spy, Wes is skilled enough at being intimidating that he could have scared you off."

Kurt snorted at that; their Head Warbler _was_ intimidating when he wanted to be – frightening, even – but the thought of being scared of him now, after having gotten to know him so much better, bordered on the ridiculous.

"If there was something more serious happening – and I was pretty sure there was – I wanted someone else to hear the details besides me," Blaine said carefully. "I trust Wes and David with everything, and I knew they would be willing to help you, even testify to the headmaster if they had to."

Kurt's mouth opened in astonishment. "How did you know?" he asked.

"I meant it when I said I recognized the look on your face," Blaine answered sadly. "I used to have the same look a lot – the same uneasiness in crowds, the same quick observation of everyone around me, searching for the people that I feared, the same jumpiness at loud noises. I'm not sure I could have told you what those mannerisms were when I came to Dalton, but Wes and David told me later that I had all of them, and the fact that I was so scared was part of why they took it upon themselves to make friends with me and watch out for me. You're so much more self-contained than I was – but I could see just enough of the same things when everyone was swarming around you that I thought you might have been through something similar."

"Then – why did you send them away?" Kurt asked, puzzled. "You asked them to leave before I said anything about Karofsky."

"You had implied that you were gay, when you asked us if we were," Blaine answered sensitively. "I didn't know if you had talked to anyone about it before; I didn't know how much of what you were going through had to do with your sexuality. Wes and David are great guys, and they would have understood completely, but I didn't want you to feel any more vulnerable than you obviously did already. You knew I was gay; I was the one you were going to trust. If I had heard something from you that really worried me, I would have asked if you felt comfortable telling them, once we were done talking."

"So let me get this straight," Kurt said meditatively. "You would have gone to Mr. Davis? You would have had Wes and David corroborate what you heard? For someone you didn't even know?"

Blaine's jaw tightened. "Kurt, after what happened to me, I would do a lot more than that to help someone who had gone through the same things – or worse things," he added pointedly. "It never reached the level of death threats, but it was awful." He swallowed hard before continuing. "Headmaster Davis is a busy man, but he cares about the Dalton students, and he doesn't have any tolerance for prejudice or harassment. If I hadn't been able to convince you to transfer, or your parents hadn't been able to figure out the finances, he would have made it happen."

Kurt was still staring at him. "You had only met me a few minutes before that. I can't – I can't believe you knew. I can't – no, I _can_ believe you would do that, because you're you, but – Blaine –"

"Kurt, I would be willing to do that much for anyone who was being bullied to the extent you were; for you, I would have done a great deal more," Blaine said lovingly. "I didn't know why that was at first, but I knew that I cared, and that was enough."

"And yet you don't believe that your level of bravery equals mine," Kurt murmured. "Need I remind you that you _did_ do more, Blaine Anderson? More than I ever could have asked."

"You needed me," Blaine said simply. "And I needed you, too, though it took me much longer to realize it."

Kurt smiled. "I like to think of it as Pavarotti's parting gift to us. If he hadn't passed away, and I hadn't sung "Blackbird" on that particular day . . ."

Blaine smiled back. "Maybe it was. He was a very smart little bird."

Kurt chuckled and then paused, and Blaine could see some kind of internal debate playing across his countenance before he spoke.

"Blaine," Kurt said hesitantly, "you know that you can talk to me about what happened to you, if you want to. I'm not pressing you," he added quickly, as Blaine's eyes darkened and he visibly flinched. "We have time, and I will never ask you for confidences you aren't ready to give. I do want you to know that I am here. You've always been there for me, and that works both ways. You don't always have to be the strong one."

"I know," Blaine said quietly. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I trust you, Kurt," he said earnestly. "That isn't even a question. It's just – hard – to talk about those things. I've tried so hard to forget, to make my home at Dalton."

"It's a good place to call home," Kurt said compassionately. He stood and walked over to Blaine, kissing him on the forehead. It was a silent promise that he wouldn't ask anything more, that Blaine wouldn't have to talk until he was ready.

"Give me a minute," he said against Blaine's skin. He made his way to a far corner, disappearing momentarily from Blaine's line of sight. Blaine heard a few clicks, and then the soft strains of a jazz trumpet filled the air. Kurt returned to Blaine's side, holding out his hand.

"Dance with me?" he asked.

"Of course," Blaine answered, giving him a grateful smile. He slipped his hand into Kurt's and felt a small shiver at the contact. "Although we do have full plates of lasagna," he noted, glancing down at the table with a grin.

Kurt chuckled. "I'll heat them up in the oven, and bring the tiramisu down at the same time," he promised, guiding Blaine to the middle of the room. He drew Blaine into his arms, pulling him close, and Blaine sighed in contentment as he wound his arms around Kurt.

"We didn't get to do _this_ at prom," Kurt breathed in his ear.

"No," Blaine whispered. "I think I'm glad. I wouldn't want to share this with anyone but you."

"Mmm," Kurt hummed happily in agreement, tightening his hold.

The two boys dance in silence for a while, letting the music drift over them. Kurt found it both intoxicating and soothing to be so close to Blaine, feeling the warm solidness of Blaine's torso against him and smelling the clean and spicy scent that was somehow uniquely Blaine. Without the unnerving stares and barely repressed pain that had accompanied their dance at prom, Kurt could truly take pleasure in the physical closeness of his boyfriend – as well as the emotions that were pouring out of his heart like a joyful, newly discovered song.

Blaine, for his part, cherished the physical proximity as much as his significant other. He was a tactile person by nature, and holding Kurt as they danced felt little short of heavenly. Kurt was barely taller than he, but the younger boy had the body of a dancer, strong and lithe, and Blaine loved the way Kurt seemed to simply _fit _in his arms. He wrapped his arms all the way around Kurt's back, rubbing his hands slowly along Kurt's spine.

While one part of his mind was occupied with his physical senses, the rest of him was thinking through everything that had been said. When he had stopped in response to Kurt's soft voice that first time they met, he never could have imagined the way that friendship and mentorship would evolve into love. While he had immediately been attracted to Kurt (it was impossible not to notice those _eyes_), his primary concern had been to give Kurt strength and support, a friend to count on in the middle of a horrific situation.

However, there were two things he had not foreseen, Blaine mused to himself as he and Kurt turned leisurely. The first was that Kurt's situation had forced him to confront some of the worst parts of his own past, things that he had done his best to bury when he came to Dalton. He hadn't wanted to forget, exactly – as if that was even possible – but Dalton and the Warblers were a haven for which he was endlessly grateful. The stark contrast of Kurt's life at McKinley had reminded him of exactly how cruel the rest of the world could be.

The second thing was the extent to which Kurt had slipped into his heart and nestled there, simply by being completely himself. Kurt's utter honesty and vulnerability had given Blaine his own safe space, one in which he wasn't the lead soloist of the Warblers, an academic star, or the son of wealthy parents. Though Kurt didn't know the full history of Blaine's life before Dalton, or the strained and awkward relationship Blaine had with his parents, Blaine knew that when he found the strength to tell Kurt those stories, Kurt would accept everything. Even if, in his worst moments, Blaine feared that Kurt would despise him for his weaknesses, his heart knew better. Kurt was one of the most compassionate people he knew. With Kurt, he could simply be Blaine, and know that he would be loved.

As if reading his mind, Kurt shifted position in order to nuzzle Blaine's neck, placing a light kiss there that made Blaine flush.

"I love you so much," Kurt said softly, and Blaine went completely still. It was the first time since their conversation in the Lima Bean that either of them had spoken those words aloud, and the first time Kurt had initiated them. Blaine carefully brought his hands to either side of Kurt's face, tilting his boyfriend's head up to look him in the eyes.

"I love you too," he said fervently. "Kurt, this is incredible – no one has ever done anything like this for me – but why now?" he asked tentatively.

Kurt's eyes were knowing, but his smile was lighthearted. "I told you I liked romance, Blaine Warbler," he said affectionately. "This is the least that should be done for you, and I have every intention of doing more." He reached up to play with a curl that had escaped from Blaine's immaculately gelled hair. "But there were other reasons, too."

Blaine laughed at the nickname, pressing a kiss to Kurt's forehead. "No one can ever call me that but you. I won't allow it," he declared merrily, although the intensity in his eyes was making Kurt's breathing quicken. "I don't want to be 'Blaine Warbler' to anyone but you."

"I'll have to teach Rachel your actual name," Kurt quipped, but he couldn't look away from Blaine. "I don't want you to be 'Blaine Warbler' to anyone but me."

Their gazes held, and somehow both of them knew that, as new as this relationship was, as new as their love was, they were hovering on the edge of something much bigger and more beautiful than either of them had realized. Everything seemed to stop in that moment. Both of them stood frozen until Kurt (very, very carefully) lifted his hands to frame Blaine's face.

"I want very much to kiss you right now," he whispered. "But I want you to understand this. Blaine, when we said we loved each other last week, I – I was thrilled. I had wanted to say it for so long, but I didn't want to push things, or force anything, because being together is so recent for us. Saying 'I love you' is so important, and so moving, and I will tell you I love you as many times as you will let me. Afterward, though, I thought that it hardly seemed like enough." Kurt's voice was shaking, and Blaine could feel his hands trembling.

Blaine's mind was racing, and he moved his hands to Kurt's waist, trying to reassure him. "Of _course_ it's enough. Kurt, you don't owe me anything – if anything it's the other way around –"

"Stop," Kurt interrupted, pressing his fingers to Blaine's lips. "Stop right there. This isn't about owing each other, or keeping score in any way. I know that, and I want to make sure that you know it, too. I don't _ever_ want you to think that this is about gratitude or hero worship, Blaine. I am grateful for everything you did, and for you, every day, but I love _you._ I love that you can sing anything in the world and hold an entire room spellbound. I love that you can lose yourself in a song or a book and forget that there is anyone else near you. I love that you let me see when you are unsure, and worried, and scared, because I know how hard that is for you. I love how fierce you are about the things you believe to be right and how brave you are in the face of wrong. I love how sensitive you are to every nuance of your life, both the good and the bad. I love that you make my day better simply by existing. I'm sure I will find a million more things to love. _That _is why I did this – I wanted to _show_ you how much I love you, rather than simply saying it. I wanted you to know some of the reasons why. You deserve to hear them – you deserve to know how special you are."

Blaine's eyes were wet, but he managed to speak. "Listen to you," he said with a shaky smile. "Are you _trying_ to be Harry Burns?"

Kurt laughed, but Blaine could tell he was close to tears himself. "It worked for him, didn't it?" he answered. "And I'm supposed to be Sally, remember?"

Blaine pulled Kurt close, hugging him for all he was worth. "I am so lucky to have found you," he choked.

"We're lucky to have found each other," Kurt corrected him, holding Blaine just as tightly. "And if it's all right with you, I don't plan on letting go of you for a good, long time."

It was a risky thing to say, and Kurt knew it. He was pushing the boundaries they had defined for themselves, the slow pace they were determined to take, even if their feelings were fast escaping those carefully defined limits. To his surprise, however, Blaine only smiled against his shoulder.

"If you let go, I'll be there to catch you," he murmured.

Kurt decided that night that nothing, _nothing_ in the world was sweeter than the taste of Blaine's lips – not even tiramisu.


End file.
